Thursday, September 12, 2013

nationaltheatrewalesNational Theatre Wales

Pardon Manning

A Bradley Manning Support Network Project, encouraging Obama to Pardon Manning: http://pardon.bradleymanning.org/
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  • Chelsea Manning

    22nd August 2013, Bradley announced that he would like to be known as Chelsea Manning and referred to as a woman from now on. Read her letter here: http://tinyurl.com/ChelseaManning
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  • The Verdict

    February 28th 2013, Bradley took full responsibility for the leaking of information to Wikileaks, pleading guilty to 10 of 22 charges. June 30th 2013, Bradley was found guilty of a further 11 charges. Bradley faces a possible 90 years in a military prison, for leaking information. http://bit.ly/1efUWvD
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  • Bradley's statement to court

    The full statement of Bradley Manning's statement to the US Army court-martial in Fort Meade. http://bit.ly/15zWUVZ
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  • Bradley's Facebook

    PBS Frontline published Bradley Manning's Facebook page, where his last post as a free man was about being arrested, with a link to the Collateral Murder video. http://to.pbs.org/HgrXfE
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  • Secret US Embassy cables

    Wikileaks published over a quarter of a million US cables, leaked by Bradley Manning. http://bit.ly/HMjpYl
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  • "I was reduced in rank today"

    Bradley shares his demotion with hacker Adrian Lamo - from chat logs released by Wired. http://bit.ly/Hy6eii
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  • Bradley Manning Support Network

    The Bradley Manning Support Network is an ad hoc, international grassroots effort to help accused whistle blower Pfc. Bradley Manning. http://bit.ly/HiZzei
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  • WISE UP for Bradley Manning

    A Welsh, Irish, Scottish and English solidarity and support network. http://bit.ly/IlPY0u
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  • The Newport Rising

    The story of the last large scale armed rebellion in the UK, the Chartist uprising in Newport, Wales. http://bit.ly/HeLbS9
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  • The six points of Chartism

    The Chartist demands, including many of the basic principles of modern democracy. http://bit.ly/I1uetm
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  • US Army Apache helicopter shoots civillians and journalists

    The video that became known as 'Collateral Murder': leaked by Bradley Manning. http://bit.ly/14uwC3l
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  • Wikileaks: The Iraq war logs

    At 5pm EST Friday 22nd October 2010 WikiLeaks released the largest classified military leak in history. http://bit.ly/14e8XLM
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  • Bradley and the IFP detainees incident

    Key turning point for Bradley following an incident involving 15 Iraqi detainees. http://bit.ly/I09ylt
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  • Amnesty: 'Aiding the enemy' charge a travesty of justice

    Amnesty International condems the 'Aiding the enemy' charge against Bradley, which could have meant life imprisonment, without parole. http://bit.ly/18Jf2xZ
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  • FOB Hammer on Flickr

    Search for photographs of Forward Operating Base Hammer on Flickr. http://bit.ly/I3Xtyx
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  • He was a scared, bullied kid

    A Soldier who knew Bradley at Ft Leonard Wood discharge unit comments on his recycling and treatment by other soldiers. http://bit.ly/IcUdQB
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  • Boston Voices Remember The March On Washington



    A 1963 clipping from the Boston Herald American shows the Boston contingent at the March on Washington. (Courtesy of Melanie McNair)
    A clipping from the Boston Herald American shows the Boston contingent at the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, held on Aug. 28, 1963. (Courtesy of Melanie McNair)
    BOSTON — It was 50 years ago this week that more than 200,000 people gathered in front of the Lincoln Memorial on the National Mall in Washington, D.C. to demand jobs and equal rights for African Americans.
    One of the largest contingents was the group from Boston. On the eve of the anniversary of the March on Washington, many find themselves looking back.
    “This is a picture of the Boston contingent gathering after we got off the buses,” said Melanie McNair as she showed me the yellowed photograph from a Boston newspaper 50 years ago. In the background is a long line of buses; in the foreground, a large group walking behind a Boston NAACP banner being carried by two teenagers, with other people walking behind them.
    Melanie McNair was 16 years old when she attended the March on Washington with her family. McNair is the granddaughter of Melnea Cass, the former president of the Boston branch of the NAACP. (Delores Handy/WBUR)
    Melanie McNair was 16 when she attended the March on Washington with her family. She is the granddaughter of Melnea Cass, legendary Boston community and civil rights activist. (Delores Handy/WBUR)
    McNair was just 16 years old. She made the trip with other members of her family, including her grandmother, legendary Boston community and civil rights activist Melnea Cass.
    “Some 4,000 Bay Staters made the trip, and local leaders,” McNair said.
    In 1963, Ken Guscott was president of the Boston branch of the NAACP, the group that arranged to get people from this area to Washington, D.C.
    “Our phones were ringing off the hook,” Guscott recalled. “People wanted to come from Vermont, from Maine and everywhere. And it just swelled up, and then we couldn’t rent any more buses. We couldn’t get any more buses, so some people went down on the train.”
    The group left from the South End after a rally attended by Gov. Endicott Peabody.
    “We were charging people $26, and those who couldn’t afford it, we took them anyway,” Guscott continued. “The thing about it was the governor’s wife got so excited; she jumped on the first bus with Mrs. Cass, my mother and them, and went to Washington with us. She jumped on the bus and went down there with us — that showed you what an integrated group we had.”
    The Boston group joined the long line of buses heading to Washington from all over the country.
    Pam Cross, a longtime news anchor and reporter at WCVB-TV Channel 5, was 10 years old at the time.
    “There was great discussion of how you presented yourself. The men were dressed in collared shirts. Some were wearing suits. The women were all dressed as if they were going to business or going to church,” Cross recollected. “There was concern about whether there was going to be some violence, and so there was discussion before the trip, during the planning, about the whole method of non-violence and what that means.”
    Civil Rights lawyer Harvey Silvergate, who attended the march as a young reporter. (Declan McCullagh)
    Civil rights lawyer Harvey Silvergate attended the march as a young reporter. (Declan McCullagh)
    Another well-known Boston area resident who made the trip is civil rights lawyer Harvey Silverglate. In 1963, he was a student at Princeton and a summer reporter for a New Jersey newspaper.
    “I learned that there were about 80 people going from Ridgewood, N.J. They had chartered two buses,” Silverglate said. “I said to my editor, ‘This is a local story. They got 80 people from this area going down to Washington. I should go down with them and cover it.’
    “I had this sense that the whole problem of race in this country was at a historic moment, a kind of boiling point. There were enough people who were totally disgusted with things,” Silverglate continued. “There was someone in the White House: Kennedy. His character was such that one had the sense that with the proper push, he would be an ally of the integration movement. And it turned out to be right.”
    McNair was just one of the hundreds of thousands of people who came together in Washington that day.
    “It was awesome. The hard work that pulled that together for us to come together peacefully for that 250,000 people to listen and hear what was being said and the vision for us and the belief that it would be accomplished. There was no doubt in any one’s mind that this would come to be,” she reflected.
    “As a child it seemed like we walked a very, very long way,” said Cross, who made the trip from Connecticut. ’There were people coming from everywhere. Masses of people were coming off of different buses, from different modes of transportation, all shuttling on to the same streets to follow the march. And I was struck by the diversity, even as a child. I was pleasantly surprised to see such a diverse audience of people.”
    In the masses, Cross somehow managed to find her older sister, who had made the trip on a bus from New York.
    WCVB anchor Pam Cross, who was 10 years old when she attended the march with her family. (Jesse Costa/WBUR)
    WCVB anchor Pam Cross was 10 years old when she attended the march with her family. She says that, though there have been many improvements in the last 50 years, there’s still a long way to go. (Jesse Costa/WBUR)
    “It was miraculous — no cell phones, no texting. Somehow we met up, and none of us were ever quite sure how that worked out. And it was just something very powerful about having family members as well coming from other places to be supportive and to lift their voice and say, ‘Yes, we want freedom. We want equality. And the time is now.’”
    Guscott, the former NAACP president, proudly remembered what a successful display of non-violence the day was.
    “President Kennedy at the time was afraid that we were going to have riots in Washington. They had soldiers on every corner. But they were mostly black soldiers. And the black soldiers were so happy to see us. It was one of the most happy days of my life on that march because everybody was so peaceful. And all we’re doing is singing ‘We Shall Overcome’ as we marched down the street.”
    Now 50 years later, McNair looks back and says it’s time to to take another stand.
    “I would like to see them do it again today for Trayvon Martin, for the Voting Rights Act.”
    –Melanie McNair, who attended the march when she was 16
    “I would like to see them do it again today for Trayvon Martin, for the Voting Rights Act, which now is in a pitiful state because they’re basically redistricting, making it so the Department of Justice doesn’t have a say in those states that would keep us from voting. That’s a little scary,” McNair said.
    Cross finds two ways of assessing what’s been accomplished since the march.
    “I am astonished and grateful and surprised at how far we’ve come in terms of so many things: employment, education, politics. The president is an African American,” she said.
    At the same time, Cross said there’s still a long way to go.
    “I’m dismayed by employment and the numbers of young people of color — African American, Latino — who are unemployed and by education, the fact that so many of our youngsters are just dropping out or just falling short of the mark. They’re getting pushed out and still aren’t able to handle a job or survive.”
    As the country commemorates the 50th anniversary of the march, these participants all say many of its goals remain unmet.

    The Black Mis-Leaders' Love-Fest with Power on the Mall

    Printer-friendly versionPrinter-friendly version
    by BAR executive editor Glen Ford
    The commemoration of the March on Washington has been ruined. President Obama, the global assassin, protector of Wall Street, and reigning Great Mass Incarcerator, will star in the production on the National Mall. “Dr. Martin Luther King serves as a mere prop in the ceremony.” In their embrace of Power, the organizers have desecrated the Black American legacy of struggle.

    The Black Mis-Leaders' Love-Fest with Power on the Mall
    by BAR executive editor Glen Ford
    Proximity to Power has always been their Dream.”
    For those who seek an independent Black politics that is faithful to the historical Black consensus for peace and social justice, the inclusion of President Barack Obama in the 50th anniversary of the 1963 March on Washington is a desecration. The ancestral sanctum is to be utterly defiled by the presence of the very personification of imperial savagery and a ballooning domestic police state.
    Of course, the organizers of this monumental self-debasement – this obscene groveling at the feet of Power – see Obama’s participation as the ultimate testimony to Black progress. Proximity to Power has always been their Dream. Dr. Martin Luther King serves as a mere prop in the ceremony, which seeks to draw a straight line from the 1863 Emancipation Proclamation, through the 1963 mass march, to the First Black President’s embrace of the 2013 commemoration – a kind of holy trinity.
    For the Black Misleadership Class, the great social movement in which Dr. King played such a pivotal role was brought forth, not to confront Power, but to integrate it. President Obama is the perfect blending – the literal embodiment of Black Power, in the warped worldview of the 2013 organizers. Dr. King has no place in this abomination, except to mark the tolling of the bell on his dream to overcome the three evils inherent in imperial capitalism: racism, militarism and materialism.
    It is a funereal occasion.
    For those that spent much of the next 50 years jockeying for greater opportunities to join structures of power, there is no shame in hosting the nominal head of Empire at a great public ceremony.”
    Not that the actors were so different in 1963. But, back then, the grasping Black classes had not yet been launched on the trajectory that would give them a stake in the imperial order. Their status was still aspirational. Years of tumult would unfold – and Dr. King’s assassination – before the system would deign to offer serious silver to the Judases in his entourage and the larger movement. For those that spent much of the next 50 years jockeying for greater opportunities to join structures of power – the “burning house” that Dr. King feared he was leading his people into – there is no shame in hosting the nominal head of Empire at a great public ceremony. Rather, such an event is the pinnacle of success – especially for folks that imagine they have a special, complexional relationship with His Highness.
    It has been so long since the dissolution of the Black Freedom Movement, the pretenders to Black leadership have forgotten how to speak the language of struggle. Non-violent “direct action,” Dr. King’s preferred tactic to “create such a crisis and foster such a tension that a community which has constantly refused to negotiate is forced to confront the issue,” has degenerated to mean simply marching down a street on a sunny day.
    The 1963 march was not an example of direct action – quite the opposite. The purpose was to gather as many people as possible for an orderly and “dignified” demonstration of the movement’s mass following and broad support – and then get them out of town by sundown, as promised to the powers-that-be. The last thing the organizers wanted was that a quarter million marchers create a “crisis” in the heart of Washington – a scenario that Dr. King hoped to organize in the summer of 1968, but was interrupted by an assassin.
    The pretenders to Black leadership have forgotten how to speak the language of struggle.”
    The 1963 march was so accommodating to the Kennedy’s demand for orderliness, Malcolm X dubbed it the “Farce on Washington.”
    “It ceased to be a black march; it ceased to be militant; it ceased to be angry; it ceased to be impatient,” said Malcolm. “In fact, it ceased to be a march. It became a picnic, an outing with a festive, circus-like atmosphere....”
    It was also the biggest show of massed humanity in the history of the Nation’s Capitol – which certainly made the intended impression. But, accommodation with Power is not what created the movement that brought the throngs to Washington for the one-day “outing,” nor did strolling in the park carry that movement forward in the ensuing years of confrontation with power.
    The 1963 March on Washington was sanitized by the organizers, themselves, whose goal was to impress the nation – including other Black people – with the size and the breadth of the forces the leaders could call on at that point in time. It did not seek confrontation on that day, although its immensity served as implicit warning that masses of people were deeply committed to social transformation, and might not always be so orderly.
    Accommodation with Power is not what created the movement that brought the throngs to Washington.”
    In that sense, the event on the Mall was quite unrepresentative of the movement. It was, as Malcolm described from the sidelines, “a festive, circus-like atmosphere” – but it also occurred smack in the middle of years of mortal combat with the “system.” When the march is taken out of the context of what happened before and after, all that remains is the “picnic” and the self-censored, deliberately non-confrontational speeches – most notably Dr. King’s vague “dreaming.” Which perfectly suits the needs of today’s Black Misleadership Class, who have no intention of confronting Power – ever! On the contrary, they cling to the garments of Power, in the person of the First Black President, and wrap themselves in the flag of Empire.
    Dr. King rejected U.S. empire, and broke with President Lyndon Johnson over the "inter-related" issues of foreign war and and domestic poverty. There is not a shadow of a doubt that King would denounce Obama in the strongest terms, were he alive, today. Yet, those who pose as his political and moral descendants hug the presidential scorpion to their bosoms.
    Malcolm’s critique of the 1963 March does not seem so dated if one substitutes the words “Obama” or “Democrats” for “white liberals”:
    “The white liberals [Democrats/Obama] control the Negro and the Negro vote by controlling the Negro civil rights leaders. As long as they [Democrats/Obama] control the Negro civil rights leaders, they can also control and contain the Negro's struggle, and they can control the Negro's so-called revolt.”
    This August 28th will be a day of control and containment – amid a love-fest with Power.
    BAR executive editor Glen Ford can be contacted at Glen.Ford@BlackAgendaReport.com.

    From The American Left History Archives

    Boston's Unfinished March for Jobs, Freedom and Justice
    Submitted by ujpadmin1 on Sat, 08/03/2013 - 5:12pm.
    When: Wednesday, August 28, 2013, 4:30 pm
    Where: 54th Regiment Statue in front of State House • Beacon St • Boston Common • Boston
    An Event Marking the 50th Anniversary of the March on Washington
    http://justicewithpeace.org/files/u415/MARCHFLY55.jpgThe Boston Workers Alliance, Inc. has issued a clarion call for a mobilization in Boston on the 50th Anniversary of the March on Washington. A coalition of neighborhood organizations, base building community organizing groups, labor unions, civil rights organizations, and faith communities will gather to mark “re-remember, re-imagine, and relive the March for our times.
    We are holding Boston’s Unfinished March for Jobs, Freedom & Justice on Wednesday, August 28, 2013 4:30pm on the Boston Common.
    With the recent tragic verdict in the Zimmerman case, and the loss of the Section 5 of the Voting Rights Act, we feel called to organize and mobilize to address the continued devaluing of Black people, Black bodies, and Black political and economic interests. The recent developments remind us that many of us are still vulnerable to violence at the hands of police and citizens who wrongfully believe that they have the power to track police and violate the dignity of Black people. Equally important is our call to respect the rights and dignity of immigrants seeking their full human rights. High unemployment and underemployment of Black and Brown people remains persistent, structural and unaddressed.
    Fifty years ago the movement connected these issues with the March on Washington for Jobs & Freedom. It is time for us to look anew at the significance of the moment because of the Fierce Urgency of Now.


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    From The Marxist Archives -In Honor Of The 75th Anniversary Of The Founding Of The Leon Trotsky-Led Fourth International-

    Workers Vanguard No. 947
    20 November 2009
    TROTSKY
    LENIN
    Marxism and Science
    (Quote of the Week)
    Anti-scientific quackery and all forms of religious and superstitious backwardness, including on sexuality and abortion, are on the rise in this period, marked by the counterrevolutionary destruction of the Soviet Union in 1991-92. Referring to the great German philosopher Georg Hegel, Bolshevik leader Leon Trotsky defended the scientific nature of Marxism in a 1939 piece written against an opposition in the then-Trotskyist Socialist Workers Party that shrank from defense of the USSR on the eve of the Second World War and included elements who renounced dialectical materialism.
    Hegel wrote before Darwin and before Marx. Thanks to the powerful impulse given to thought by the French Revolution, Hegel anticipated the general movement of science. But because it was only an anticipation, although by a genius, it received from Hegel an idealistic character. Hegel operated with ideological shadows as the ultimate reality. Marx demonstrated that the movement of these ideological shadows reflected nothing but the movement of material bodies.
    We call our dialectic, materialist, since its roots are neither in heaven nor in the depths of our “free will,” but in objective reality, in nature. Consciousness grew out of the unconscious, psychology out of physiology, the organic world out of the inorganic, the solar system out of nebulae. On all the rungs of this ladder of development, the quantitative changes were transformed into qualitative. Our thought, including dialectical thought, is only one of the forms of the expression of changing matter. There is place within this system for neither God, nor Devil, nor immortal soul, nor eternal norms of laws and morals. The dialectic of thinking, having grown out of the dialectic of nature, possesses consequently a thoroughly materialist character.
    Darwinism, which explained the evolution of species through quantitative transformations passing into qualitative, was the highest triumph of the dialectic in the whole field of organic matter….
    Marx, who in distinction from Darwin was a conscious dialectician, discovered a basis for the scientific classification of human societies in the development of their productive forces and the structure of the relations of ownership which constitute the anatomy of society. Marxism substituted for the vulgar descriptive classification of societies and states, which even up to now still flourishes in the universities, a materialistic dialectical classification. Only through using the method of Marx is it possible correctly to determine both the concept of a workers’ state and the moment of its downfall.
    All this, as we see, contains nothing “metaphysical” or “scholastic,” as conceited ignorance affirms. Dialectic logic expresses the laws of motion in contemporary scientific thought. The struggle against materialist dialectics on the contrary expresses a distant past, conservatism of the petty bourgeoisie, the self-conceit of university routinists and…a spark of hope for an after-life.
    —Leon Trotsky, “A Petty-Bourgeois Opposition in the Socialist Workers Party” (1939), printed in In Defense of Marxism (Pathfinder, 1973)
    Workers Vanguard No. 947
    WV 947
    20 November 2009
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    Marxism and Science
    (Quote of the Week)
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    Wednesday, September 11, 2013

    ***How The West Was Won?


    DVD Review

    Magnificent Seven, 1960

    The portrayal of the American cowboy has undergone a dramatic upheaval since the time of my youth in the 1950’s when the image of John Wayne as the Maximum Cowboy held sway. In such films as Red River Valley we were presented with morality plays that displayed white American manhood (and marginally, womanhood) and frontier virtue, etched in starkly black and white terms, from a long gone era. Since then we have been presented with good bad cowboys, bad good cowboys, spaghetti western cowboys, down on their luck corrupt cowboys, end of the line cowboys and gay cowboys. From the classic The Misfits to Brokeback Mountain we have seen the cowboy turn from a simple slow to draw, slow to anger angel of deliverance to a much more nuanced figure on the screen with an internal life almost as conflicted as our own.

    No small part in this turnaround has been played by the work of the likes of Larry McMurtry who have taken a deep knowledge of the real West and presented us with a truer vision of what the westward expansion of America was all about. Today however, in the movie under review, The Magnificent Seven (hereafter, the Seven), we hark back to that earlier concept that I mentioned above when all a man needed was a horse, a few weapons of choice and plenty of open space.

    The Magnificent Seven, interestingly, was first screened in the early 1960’s in the same period as the Misfits. Both films had plenty of well-acted performances (including by Eli Wallach in both films), understandable, if sparse, dialogue and nice plot lines. However, apart from those similarities they go there separate ways in looking at the heroic figure of the American cowboy and his fate in a modernizing world.

    The plot line of the Seven is fairly simple, as is usually the case with old time oaters, as a village of beleaguered Mexican farmers being bled white by a gang of Mexican bad guys seeks help from north of the border. In forming a small army of motley gunfighters to battle against evil Chris (played by Yul Bryner) has gathered in every social type, from pathological killer to raw kid on the make, known to the western. However when the deal goes down the good guys beat the bad guys. Straight up. The cast of actors used to fill the roles of the gunfighters was basically a who’s who of macho male actors, from Bryner to McQueen to Vaughn, of the early 1960’s. Here high testoserone meets a worthy cause.

    Although there are plenty of doubts about the virtues of the cowboy lifestyle expressed by the lead cowboys, particularly by Steve McQueen, this film’s central premise is that it takes such types with their well-worn sense of honor to right the wrongs of the little world that they have decided to inhabit. In a sense this is the Last Chance to give meaning to all those macho qualities that we have been told created the vast American West. Adios.
    ***Out In The Be-Bop 1960s Night- Dipping Into The Late Great Folk Scene Minute, Circa 1966


    A YouTube film clip of Woody Guthrie performing his alternative national anthem, This Land Is Your Land.
    The Greatest Songs Of Woody, Woody Guthrie and others, Vanguard Records, 1988

    Scene: Brought to mind by the classic Woody Guthrie song and hobo national anthem, This Land is Your Land.

    “Hey Josh did you hear that the senior class is going to turn the school gym into a coffeehouse on the night of October 7th and have Ramblin’ Jack Elliot as the featured performer to raise money for their Olde Saco High School Class of 1966 Senior Prom. Cool, right?” yelled Jimmy Jones across the boys’ locker room divider to his best friend and fellow track runner, Josh Breslin. Josh, non-committedly, yelled back just as Jimmy turned on the shower to wash the day’s five mile run sweat away, “Ya, cool.” That particular response reflected (and hid) two important facts. One, Josh, wasn’t exactly sure what a coffeehouse was (other than a place to get coffee which he did not drink because all the latest studies indicated that caffeine consumption was bad, track runner bad, for your performance) and, two, he had not the slightest idea who or what a Ramblin’ Jack Eliot was.

    All Josh knew for sure was that a long-legged, short-skirt-wearing (showing those long gams to great effect), long straight black-haired, often peasant blouse wearing Kitty (Kathleen) Saint Just, a girl in his junior English class that he was seriously interested in, very seriously interested in, was seriously into music, although exactly what kind of music he was not sure of except not his jump Rolling Stones be-bop rock ‘n’ roll after she gave him a weird look when he mentioned it one time after class. And most assuredly not Bob Dylan’s music, not his Like A Rolling Stone music that he also jumped to. Same weird look. What he was exactly sure of was that she would, having an older brother, Laurent, in the senior class be attending the concert. And Josh Breslin, handsome Josh Breslin or not, desperately wanted to be sitting next to Kitty, drink of coffee in hand or not, at that concert.

    There was only one solution-Billy Monroe, Jimmy Joe’s son and his fellow classmate. For those over the age of twenty-one, for the squares, in the Olde Saco Main Street night, who do not know who Jimmy Joe is without more identification here is his cachet. Jimmy Joe Monroe owes the teenage boss Friday night (hell, and Saturday night too) hang-out on Main Street, Jimmy Joe’s Diner (and another one on Atlantic Avenue but that one doesn’t count because that is for people who want full dinners and stuff like that, not dogs and burgers like real people). And son Billy is the numero uno whiz kid for all kinds of music, and has been since about the fourth grade when he turned everybody on to Jerry Lee Lewis and his High School Confidential which blew Olde Saco Junior High wide open one school dance night. But that’s a story for another time.

    Right now Josh needs Billy for a “refresher” course on ABC coffeehouse scenes and singers. So Josh hightailed it over to the Colonial Donut Shoppe (hey. they serve other stuff too not just joe and crullers) where Billy held forth after school. (For those, let’s face it, squares who wonder why Billy doesn’t hang out at Jimmy Joe’s with all the teeny-bopper girls, where have you been, haven’t you heard word one about teen alienation and from whom one is alienated numero uno from, Christ.) He caught Billy’s eye and told him of his dilemma.

    Billy laughed, laughed loudly, but with no harm in the laugh. He couldn’t believe that Josh was clueless about the old-timey folk scene that had had its minute in New York and Boston about five years before but was now like, well like, ancient history. Josh was surprised to hear that Bob Dylan had made that scene, had been a big-wheel in it, and then blew it off like some bad karma once he moved on to real music, rock music. So Billy gave him the rundown on what a coffeehouse was, no big deal just a place for coffee and, kind of like Millie’s Diner up the road near the old mill where his father used to work and have his coffee and, except darker lit and strictly for kids. Josh thought, sounds kind of cool.

    As for the Ramblin’ Jack part this was a little more screwy. It seems there was a big dust-up between Dylan and guys like Ramblin’ Jack over what to be true to. Both had started out kicking around songs by a guy named Woody Guthrie, a folk troubadour Billy called him, songs like This Land Is Your Land, Do Re, Mi, Hobo’s Lullaby and Depression songs, stuff like that. Strictly old-timey stuff. But Ramblin’ Jack stayed true blue and that is why he is working the faux coffeehouse high school prom fund-raising scene in the year of our lord nineteen hundred and sixty-six for coffee and crullers. “Got it now, Josh?,” murmured Billy. Ya.

    Josh didn’t think anything of it other than as so much air like Darwin’s theory of evolution and other stuff in school until he called one Kitty Saint Just up on the phone and asked her to go with him to the senior class coffeehouse fund-raiser. She hemmed a little until Josh got the bright idea to mention that Ramblin’ Jack would probably be singing Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land, and some other songs which he Billy-rambled off. “Oh, Josh, you know about Jack Elliot?,” purred Kitty into the phone. “Well, yes, sure,” answered the now fox-wise Josh.

    Dated, no problem, dated up pick me up at seven and as a bonus Miss Kitty is requiring the pleasure of his company this Saturday afternoon to come over to her house and listen to Ramblin’ Jack, Joan Baez, early Dylan (as she made very clear in her offering), Tom Paxton, Tom Rush, Dave Von Ronk and a bunch of other names he did not recognize. And it did not matter that he did not recognize the names because all he had to do was chant the Woody name and he was home free. Ya, this land is my land. Thanks Woody Guthrie whoever you are.
    ***From The Archives- When The Class-War Was Red Hot- Farrell Dobbs’ “Teamsters Rebellion” (The 1934 Minneapolis Truckers Strikes For Union Recognition) - A Book Review



    Link below to a James P. Cannon Internet Archive for an online copy of his important Lessons of the Minneapolis Strikes.
    http://www.marxists.org/archive/cannon/works/1944/ht03.htm


    Book Review

    Teamster Rebellion, Farrell Dobbs, Pathfinder Press, New York, 1974

    No question over the past several years (really decades but it is just more public and in our face now) the American working class has taken it on the chin, taken it on the chin big time. What with job losses (and jobs not coming back), paying for bank bail-outs, home foreclosures, effective tax increases (since the rich refuse to pay we pay), mountains of consumer debt, and student loan debt as a lure for the kids there is little to glow about in harsh light of the American Dream. In short, it is not secret that the working class has faced, is facing and, apparently, will continue to face an erosion of its material well-being for the foreseeable future something not seen by most people since the 1930s Great Depression, the time of our grandparents (or, ouch, great-grandparents).

    That is this condition will continue unless we take some lessons from those very 1930s and struggle, struggle as a class against the imperial capitalist monster that seems to have all the card decks stacked against us. And that is where the late labor leader (and, for a time, revolutionary socialist) Farrell Dobb’s little book on his (and his comrades) experiences in organizing the truckers of Minneapolis, Teamster’s Rebellion, can help inspire new generations of working people, organized, unorganized, unemployed, homeless, houseless, and just plain desperate, to get out from under. Specific conditions may be different just now from what they were in Dobbs’ 1934 Minneapolis but after re-reading this little organizing gem there was something very, very current about what our forebears faced down there and then.

    I write this little review with a special purpose, a purpose driven by the rise of the Occupy movement, in mind. Although the Occupy movement is right now as I write going through some growing pains there are some disturbing trends that I have witnessed since its inception. The main trend for my purposes here includes a rather standoffish attitude toward the working-class, especially the organized working-class, as central to the struggle for a more equitable society rather than as just another numbered victim of American imperialism’s relentless assault on, well, if not the ninety-nine percent then some large percentage of the population. And that is where the lessons of the 1934 Teamster’s strikes comes in as a helpful antidote to that notion. As well as very helpful guide to what Occupy already does fairly well-organize auxiliary aspects of the class struggle like kitchens, libraries, speakers’ bureaus and the like.

    A few highlights will illustrate my point. Minneapolis was a notorious anti-labor commercial town (flour, copper, farm goods, etc.) for generations leading up to the 1930s. It had a well-organized, ruthless, and, when necessary, armed business-centered Citizen’s Alliance that mostly kept out the unions for generations. Therefore a central demand, yes a front and center in your face demand, of the working-class there was for independent union recognition by the bosses (they recognized only their own “company” unions, or better, dealt with each individual worker separately). That was the first order of business for those militants, including the leading revolutionary militants (mainly Trotskyists in this situation but others as well). Along with that desire was the idea that those allies (inside workers who loaded the trucks, etc.) of the truckers should also be organized in one industry-wide union rather than the old craft union idea of separate unions for each category of worker (in short, to break the old “divide and conquer” strategy of the bosses and comfort zone of the labor skates).

    Now this scenario may not immediately strike any current Occupy sympathizer as particularly germane for today’s struggles but that view would be short-sighted. For what Minneapolis (and the other main class battles of the 1930s in places like San Francisco, Toledo, Flint, and Detroit) demonstrates is the social power of the working class to hit the economic royalists (the name coined for the one- per centers of that day) to shut the capitalist down where it hurts- in their pocketbooks and property. The bosses will let us rant all day, will gladly take (and throw away) all our petitions, will let us use their parks (up to a point as we have found out), and curse them to eternity as long as we don’t touch the two “p’s.” And that is why it is profoundly mistaken to assume that the working class is only along for the ride like everybody else in Occupy. The various recent West Coast port actions is a somewhat skewed way (the longshoremen refused to cross the community picket lines rather than directly shut the ports themselves but the effect was the same-ports shutdown for a period) demonstrate that same proposition.

    Beyond that central premise that is bed-rock to understand this book is filled with all kinds of information that is also important to know for any major show-down struggle with the bosses. Such class-war actions have to be carefully planned using every resource available (not just some happenstance thing put together at a whim, or less). So reading about the soup kitchens, the hospital, the make-shift garages (to transport roving pickets, a necessity in the many-sited trucking industry), provisions for entertainment, and a labor daily newspaper to counteract the bourgeois biases of the press sounded awfully familiar to me, and should to you. Some parts Occupy has got right, got right right from the start.

    What, disturbingly, has not been right or has been some what blurred today is a clear understanding of the relationship between the bosses and their state (the cops, National Guard, mayors, governors, courts, prisons, etc.) and we the risen people. The militants (beyond the hard “reds”) in Minneapolis probably had some illusions in those institutions starting out, although probably less than those today, a few generations removed from those hard class battles. They soon “learned” about the cops in their three-stage (three separate strike actions from February to August 1934) fight. Learned about cops mostly at the wrong end of a night-stick (or tear-gas grenade) in the famous “Battle of Deputies’ Run”. About the courts and their rough, very rough “justice.” About the militia and who it serves. About the lying bourgeois newspapers and their scare tactics. About who were, and were not, the so-called “friends of labor” from Roosevelt on down. And even about the treachery of the labor skates, particularly the head of the very Teamster Union they were trying to join, Daniel Tobin.

    What they also learned though, and we can learn as well, is that through combining together in solidarity in large numbers, through being politically clear-headed, through keeping independent of the main political parties, and most of all having the determination to fight for what you want you can win sometimes in this wicked old world. Read this little book and see if you agree.
    ***Out In the Be-Bop 1960s Night- When Olde Saco Rocked, Rocked Into The Night



    A YouTube film clip of Otis Redding performing his torch classic I’ve Been Loving You Too Long.
    CD Review

    1965: The Beat Goes On, various artists, Time-Life Music, 1988

    Scene evoked by the cover art that graces the front of this CD. The cover illustrates an example of 1965 teen jail-break concert, or better, some local teen queen bee club, where a local cover band, complete with mopped-hair and Nehru jackets, amped-up to the high heavens is trying to make its own musical break-out.

    Ya, Olde Saco, Maine is rocking tonight. School’s over for the summer, mercifully over, and everybody who is anybody, anybody in the teen world, what other world is there, is out in the sea breeze night. Hell, Josh, Joshua Lawrence Breslin, freshly-minted junior-to-be at Old Saco High come the fall earlier in the evening even counted a bunch of walkers and others touristas who don’t really count out this night. This Friday night just before the French-Canadians from up in Quebec (the locals call them “cubies,” to draw a distinction between the foreigners and the homegrown varieties of French- Canadian including Josh himself whose mother is a LeBlanc) descend on the town come July and take up all the air, the Maine soft fluffed beach sand, and the whiskey clubs with their arcadian dreams, and liquor stinks.

    Ya, he chuckled to himself they sure don’t count, not tonight. And not down at the Surfside Club where the local favorites from up in Bangor, the Rockin’ Ramrods, are holding their first concert, well, dance really since they fronted for The Kinkies down in one of Boston’s Fenway night clubs a few weeks back. Now, for the squares, what the Surfside is about is a teen night club where no liquor is served, no official liquor okay. And only people eighteen to twenty-one can get in. Period, well, kind of period.

    See last summer after the Beatles hit the shore the guy who owns the Surfside, Lenny LaCroix, decided he could make more dough, lots more dough, using his club on Friday and Saturday nights to let the teeny-boppers bop (hey, that is how he explained it to one and all in the Olde Saco Tribune). Before that he used to have a fox-trot and whisky crowd, mainly whisky, foul up the place for a few hours before heading off to watch late night television or something. And so almost every week since then every eighteen to twenty-one year old within fifty miles including those tweedy Colby girls and Bates guys came thundering down the newly opened Maine Turnpike to listen to what was what on the local music scene. But mainly to be seen, and see. Officially, okay

    Hold on a minute. How does one Joshua Lawrence Breslin, who by no stretch of the imagination can fit the eighteen year old minimum either by looks or by stance, fit in. Well, that is where the old ancient human game, hell maybe Adam and Eve invented it, who you know, who you know in the Old Saco teen night scheme of things comes into play.

    See the king hell king of that night is none other than usually day and night whiskey-soaked “Stewball” Stu (although nobody, nobody alive anyway, calls him to his face, not if they want to stay alive anyway) who has been the king of the car-crazed night here as long as anyone can remember. Why? Let us just say ‘57 cherry flaming hellfire red “boss” Chevy and be done with it. And Josh, having inadvertently done Stu a good turn turning over some local Lolita that Stu was interested in, has been riding “shot gun” on most Friday and Saturday nights in that '57 chariot for the past couple of years.

    And the very long in the tooth (over 21) Stu is nothing but the guy who turned the owner of the Surfside, Lenny, on to the idea of evicting the sloe-gin fizz crowd and making his joint a teen club. Besides Stu, at the best of times an oily mechanic to normal people (read: non-teens), is nothing but a magnet for the legion of honeys who love ’57 Chevys, or rather love being seen in that kind of vehicle, and what that does to them in lots of ways. Best of all if Stu, who sometimes can be a hard and cruel king, is open-armed welcome his boy Josh is welcome too. So tonight is no different from a million other nights that way. Strictly Friday routine.

    So this night Josh is making his usual trek over to Stu’s “house,” really just a mucked-up trailer cum ad hoc garage, hell, let’s just call it a dump and be done with it, down at the corner of his own wrong side of the tracks street, Albemarle, and Main. That trip is required protocol now since mother Delores (nee Leblanc, and no nonsense French-Canadian in such matters) put her foot down (or rather both feet) last spring and declared Stu and his car persona non grata and persona non car. No big deal this night though as the stars have come out and Josh dreams his usual dream, his usual Friday night salacious dream of “scoring” a bevy of babes at this hoe-down teen night club scene so that he will have one for each night in the week like his mentor, Stu. He arrives at Stu’s, they pass their usual grunt greetings, and they are off into the ocean air, wave-flecked night.

    First stop. Or rather first pass through. Jimmy Jacks’ Diner (the one on Main and Atlantic, the teen girl magnet and guy hot car hang-out one, not the lame senior citizen blue plate special before six joint over on West Grand, hell no) to see who may be out and about early, who is not going anywhere near some hot teen club, and who, or what, crazed who is looking for Stu to go mano y mano with him on some dawn Squaw Rock “chicken” run. Ya, some crazed yahoo from the sticks or something who hasn’t heard that Stu and his Chevy are immortal. But this night “no dice,” nothing, nada and so it is off to the pier to scout things out there on the pilgrimage.

    Scouting the pier is a much part of the Friday night summer ritual as breathing, no question. See this is like Stu’s coronation, or reaffirmation of his kinghood. And also see that the honeys who hang around the pier are those who, unlike Josh and his cachet, have no chance of sneaking into (or staying) the Surfside and so they must cool their act on the amusement park boardwalk. That little problem, however, does not stop them from getting in line, a line six deep at times, to oh, oh, oh, Stu’s Chevy and hope, hope that maybe tonight he sees their teeny-bopper charms. And Stu, normally a girl stoic at least out front, loves this adoration from, well from girls his own age, his socially developed own age. Josh though thanks his lucky stars Stu is that way ever since that local Lolita turnover, thanks his lucky starts everyday. Even if the Stu aura has never brought him any luck with those silly, screaming skee ball sticks. Even on a lonesome Monday night.

    But even an adored king knows that hanging around parent and cop heavy boardwalks is ill-advised, especially ill-advised, when one Officer “Pete” is aiming dead-eye at Stu and getting his pencil and citation book out ready to pounce on some lame town ordinance to ticket Stu. They are off, although more than one pair of sad-eyed, mini-skirted sticks is moaning and groaning about the leaving. Jesus, Stu really is the king hell king.

    Arriving at the Surfside (on East Grand just after the Acey-Duecey Club where all the lamo, old-time motorcycle guys and their “sweeties” hang trying to jump-start their youth dreams) Stu parks in the spot that Lenny has set aside for him as is appropriate for royalty. Stu and Josh go in. And, as usual, they split up and take their respective spots around the bandstand. For a while now Stu and Josh have agreed, no, Stu have proclaimed that once inside the club it is every man for himself and Stu wants no high school junior-to-be messing with his time. Period.

    Stu, of course, gets his usual looks from the local shapes (no amusement boardwalk stuff here either, pure honey) who know that a look from Stu means a ride in that ’57 Chevy if not tonight then sometime. But see Stu’s fifteen minutes of fame is strictly local, the girls from the colleges, the ones that Josh eyes and spies, think Stu is, if you can believe this, nothing but a high school drop-out and/or hoodlum. At least that is what one such college girl had just told Josh, while they were slow dancing to Otis Redding’s I’ve Been Loving You Too Long, when he tried to lash-up to Stu’s star with a freshman girl, Laura, from Colby.

    And see, maybe, she, Laura, was right, well right from her Colby perspective, because just before midnight Stu (with a hot red head, definitely a shape, in short green mini-skirt whom Josh had seen around town working in one of the summer hash houses) came up to Josh and for the umpteenth time told him that he had to find his own way home because, well, just because. Just then that Colby girl, maybe sensing that Josh wasn’t some Stu clone, jumped right in and said she would make sure that Josh got home. And the way she said it had Olde Saco Rock jetty beach front ocean “parking” and checking out the dawn written all over it. Ya, Olde Saco rocked that night.
    ***A Populist Folk Singer For The Ages- The Dust Bowl Refugee- “Woody Guthrie: Dust Bowl Ballads”



    A YouTube Film Clip Of Woody Guthrie Performing This Land Is Your Land.

    CD REVIEW

    Woody Guthrie; Dust Bowl Ballads, Woody Guthrie, Buddha Records, 2000


    Although this space is mainly dedicated to reviewing political books and commenting on past and current political issues literary output is hardly the only form of political creation. Occasionally in the history of the American and international left musicians, artists and playwrights have given voice or provided visual reminders to the face of political struggle. With that thought in mind, every once in a while I have used this space to review those kinds of political expression.

    This review was originally used to take an end around look at some previously unknown, if not hidden, Woody Guthrie work from the 1940 and 1950s that were not songs, but poems, reflections, and “speak-outs” that came to mind when Woody he had his lucid moments, an album entitled Note Of Hope. Best of all for those, like me, who worry about the future of folk music as the generation of ’68 dwindles these works were recreated and put to music (including producer Rob Wasserman’s fatalistic bass, yes, bass work) by some younger artists who will carry the torch forward. And that album brought me back to a Woody hunger and hence a refreshed look at his Okie dust bowl ballads.

    My musical tastes were formed, as were many of those of the generation of 1968, by Rock & Roll music exemplified by The Rolling Stones and Beatles and by the blues revival, both Delta and Chicago style. However, those forms as much as they gave pleasure were only marginally political at best. In short, these were entertainers performing material that spoke to us. In the most general sense that is all one should expect of a performer. Thus, for the most part, that music need not be reviewed here. Those who thought that a new musical sensibility laid the foundations for a cultural or political revolution have long ago been proven wrong.

    That said, in the early 1960’s there nevertheless was another form of musical sensibility that was directly tied to radical political expression- the folk revival. This entailed a search for roots and relevancy in musical expression. While not all forms of folk music lent themselves to radical politics it is hard to see the 1960’s cultural rebellion without giving a nod to such figures as Dave Van Ronk, the early Bob Dylan, Utah Phillips, Joan Baez, Pete Seeger, Woody Guthrie and others. Whatever entertainment value these performers provided they also spoke to and prodded our political development. They did have a message and an agenda and we responded as such. That some of these musicians’ respective agendas proved inadequate and/or short-lived does not negate their affect on the times.

    As I have noted elsewhere in a review of Dave Van Ronk’s work when I first heard folk music in my youth I felt unsure about whether I liked it or not. As least against my strong feelings about The Rolling Stones and my favorite blues artists such as Howlin' Wolf and Elmore James. Then on some late night radio folk show here in Boston I heard Dave Van Ronk singing Come All You Fair and Tender Ladies and that was it. From that time to the present folk music has been a staple of my musical tastes. From there I expanded my play list of folk artists with a political message.

    Although I had probably heard Woody’s This Land is Your Land at some earlier point I actually learned about his music second-hand from early Bob Dylan covers of his work. While his influence has had its ebbs and flows since that time each succeeding generation of folk singers still seems to be drawn to his simple, honest tunes about the outlaws, outcasts and the forgotten people that made this country, for good or evil, what it is today. Since Woody did not have a particularly good voice nor was he an exceptional guitar player the message delivered by his songs is his real legacy.

    And now we have a second legacy look for the ages from the hard-edged American populist. Stick outs here include Tom Goad I and II (basically John Steinbeck’s Grape of Wrath in lyric form), California dreamin’ Do Re Mi, the outlaw love song Pretty Boy Floyd and I Ain’t Got No Home. A tip of the hat to Woody.

    This Land Is Your Land-Woody Guthrie

    This land is your land This land is my land
    From California to the New York island;
    From the red wood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
    This land was made for you and Me.

    As I was walking that ribbon of highway,
    I saw above me that endless skyway:
    I saw below me that golden valley:
    This land was made for you and me.

    I've roamed and rambled and I followed my footsteps
    To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts;
    And all around me a voice was sounding:
    This land was made for you and me.

    When the sun came shining, and I was strolling,
    And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling,
    As the fog was lifting a voice was chanting:
    This land was made for you and me.

    As I went walking I saw a sign there
    And on the sign it said "No Trespassing."
    But on the other side it didn't say nothing,
    That side was made for you and me.

    In the shadow of the steeple I saw my people,
    By the relief office I seen my people;
    As they stood there hungry, I stood there asking
    Is this land made for you and me?

    Nobody living can ever stop me,
    As I go walking that freedom highway;
    Nobody living can ever make me turn back
    This land was made for you and me.